


so fucking hot (even sleeping beauty's sweating)

by pretty_bois



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Amusement Parks, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, crop tops, good thing Hawkins got a new keg king, steve needs a prince [read: full time caretaker]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretty_bois/pseuds/pretty_bois
Summary: He’s only about an hour into a day of single riding and sunburn when—as he stands next to Nancy and Jonathan staring out at crowds of people surrounding rides and scattered booths—he really begins to regret his entire life. And yeah, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but it‘s hot, his hair looks like shit, he‘s sweating through his dad’s old Queen T-shirt, and he‘s stuck being a third wheel until the sun goes down and it’s currently noon so.He’s having fun.





	so fucking hot (even sleeping beauty's sweating)

**Author's Note:**

> in case anyone wanted some Irritated and Confused Steve^TM

Steve knew going along would be a bad idea. He knew even when he said, “Sure, could be fun” that it most definitely would not be fun at all.

The day started out rough even before he left when the kids asked to hang out in his pool. Turning them down would be fine any other day, but it just so happens to be the hottest day of the year so far. So that made him feel pretty shitty. Usually their only options without his pool are swimming in the disgustingly crowded public pool or suffering the heat at home.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to feel bad about that for too long. Mrs. Wheeler promised to take the kids to a water park _,_ and the gods are punishing him for being the worst with a day that‘s not only sweltering, but also so humid his hairspray is barely holding his hair in place.

What a time to be alive.

He’s only about an hour into a day of single riding and sunburn when—as he stands next to Nancy and Jonathan staring out at crowds of people surrounding rides and scattered booths—he really begins to regret his entire life. And yeah, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but it‘s hot, his hair looks like shit, he‘s sweating through his dad’s old Queen T-shirt, and he‘s stuck being a third wheel until the sun goes down and it’s currently noon so.

He’s having fun.

“Steve, hey,” Nancy waves a hand in front of his face. He blinks and tries to focus on her. “Are you alright? You wanna stop for a second? You look a little flushed.”

He shrugs and takes a drink from a water bottle she hands him, “I’m fine. Stop worrying so much.”

“I’ll stop worrying when you stop spacing out and staring at nothing. Have you eaten today? Maybe your blood sugar’s low.”

Steve looks her square in the eye and smiles while gesturing at his face, pointedly ignoring the question. “Look, see? We’re all good here,” He turns towards Jonathan and grins wider, “right? I’m a-okay.” Jonathan makes a face that says he doesn’t believe him. Steve is so frustrated his organs hurt with it.

“Ok ok fine, I’ll go get lemonade—with plenty of sugar—and we can stop for a few. You’re gonna suffocate me with all this attention before the heat does. Go find a good place to sit, alright? Isn’t this supposed to be fun?” Steve starts walking towards the closest stand to buy drinks for the three of them and yells over his shoulder, “Seriously, I know why you’re doing this.”

Steve is fully aware of the reality of the situation and it’s kinda worse than if they were to just let him trail along awkwardly. He knows they only asked him to come with because he was there when they saw the ad. That, and Nancy’s always worried about him being alone for too long. Which is dumb, to be honest. He’s spent a majority of his life alone and he’s been fine so far. Plus, it’s her fault he’s alone now anyway so it’s kinda hypocritical of her—

“Nope,” he says aloud, telling himself off. He can see where his thoughts are going and he stops them right there.

Steve is over her, he really is, they’re friends now and he loves her in the most platonic way ever, but he’s overheated and irritated and he needs to calm down and drink some lemonade.

He asks the girl at the stand for three and waits there as she makes the drinks fresh. Staring past the stand, he watches people walk by.

Families with young kids running around with faces stained blue from the sickeningly sweet foods they’re eating, couples holding hands even though it’s like a hundred degrees out, groups of friends laughing and messing around, hot guys in crop tops.

God, does Steve fucking love crop tops.

Straight ahead of him, he can see a guy about his age leaning against a fence. He has a cigarette held between his lips, blonde curls falling perfectly above his shoulders, and he's wearing jeans fitted snugly to his body.

In this heat?

Steve can only imagine how masochistic that guy must be to be wearing what look like his tightest pair on a day like today.

At least he has the crop top. Fuck. It’s a good crop top too, a grungy looking black band T-shirt that shows off just the right amount of his abs.

Steve hadn’t even noticed that he’s with someone until she slaps him, hard, across the face. And the guy. . . Laughs? Yeah, he’s laughing.

Shit, Steve definitely wasn’t wrong about that whole masochist thing. Even from so far away Steve can see the red mark blooming on his cheek. The guy lifts a hand to rub his face, but he never stops smiling. He takes a few more drags from the cigarette still in his mouth while the girl (presumably his date, considering that slap) shouts a few choice words at him before walking quickly away, flicking her hair over her shoulder. And he doesn’t chase after her. He grinds out his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot (boots? seriously? Steve would be _dying_ in those) and abruptly looks up, directly at Steve, who’s now frozen in place. Suddenly, he realizes how long he’s been staring. He hears someone calling for him. He’s violently shoved out of his mind and back into reality. Maybe he does have a problem, considering this is the second time he’s zoned completely out in less than five minutes.

And then the blonde stranger winks at him.

“Um. . . Excuse me! Sir? Your drinks are ready?” Steve’s still trying to regain his mental footing when the lemonade girl giggles and gives him a look that he can’t comprehend.

“Here’re your drinks. . . and my number. Call me sometime?” She’s giggling again and Steve still has no fucking clue what’s happening, so he mumbles his thanks, grabs the drinks, and moves over to let the next customer up. He stops right past the stand to find the guy in the crop top again, but he’s gone.

———

“Hey, you’re back, what took you so long?”

Jonathan and Nancy are sitting by a separation wall in what looks like the only sliver of shade they could find.

“Uh, I was just. . . It was busy?”

“You don’t sound too sure about that, buddy. See a hot girl or something?” Jonathan asks curiously. Nancy, being Nancy, punches his arm. Steve can feel his face heating up. He tries to will the blush away, but Nancy’s eyes go wide and he knows she’s seen it.

“Oh,” Nancy says, “so you _did_ see a girl?”

“There wasn’t anyone. Stop asking about it. I’m just dehydrated, right?” They’re still looking at him skeptically, so he hands them their drinks and moves to sit, praying for any kind of distraction.

The paper with a name and a number on it, now crumpled from the condensation, falls between them all.

“Oh my god, Steve! You totally did!” Nancy claps her hands and picks up the paper before Steve can even reach for it, and he’s silently thanking Lemonade Girl for saving his ass. Time to break out those stellar acting skills again.

“C’mon Nance, just give it back!”

“Ooh Lily? She sounds cute.”

“Totally,” Jonathan pipes up. Nancy gives him a look and he laughs, hiding behind his drink. Steve could not have asked for a better cover.

“Yeah yeah, maybe she is kinda cute, ok?”

“So. . . “ Jonathan questions, “what does she look like?”

The only person in Steve’s head right now is the crop top stranger, but it’s not like _they_ know that.

“Blonde. She’s blonde, with curly hair. And uh, she’s in shape? Like, fit I guess.” Nancy makes a face at the description and waves her hands to stop him.

“Ew, god Steve, don’t objectify her.”

“I’m not! Am I not allowed to appreciate an attractive person? Jesus. You guys asked me what she looks like.”

“Ugh fine,” Nancy concedes, “I guess you’re right. Should’ve commented on her intelligence or something too but—”

“She fucking giggled and told me to call her sometime, Nance. Not everything is some huge injustice towards women. But if it makes you feel better, she seemed different. . . Special. And I don’t take numbers from girls who aren’t special.”

Nancy still looks like she‘s about to start up on one of her rants again, and he feels kinda bad but he really doesn’t wanna hear it right now so he stands up fast (probably too fast because his vision goes dark for a millisecond. . . he should _really_ drink that lemonade) and mutters a quick, “Be back in a few,” before leaving to find a bathroom.

———

Too many minutes later, Steve finds a door with a little man on it. But how can he really know it’s a man when it’s just a figure without a skirt? Dudes wear skirts sometimes. Didn’t all the guys from Queen wear dresses and shit in that one music video? Yeah. What was the point of this?

Steve can’t remember. Probably wasn’t important.

He drags a hand across his face and yanks the door open. How the hell can one guy in a really good crop top mess him up this much. Sure, he wasn’t doing great before he saw him, but now his brain is mush. And the heat isn’t helping. Heat never helps anything.

Steve hates the sun.

He washes his hands and rinses off his gross face with some gross water from the gross sink and that kinda helps clear his head. Just enough for the beautiful stranger to pop up even clearer than before.

Beautiful stranger?

Who even _is_ Steve? How old is he, sixty-five?

Jesus, he’s going crazy. He really needs to get out of the house more if this is how he reacts to seeing pretty people. The door creaks open, but his attention is only caught when he hears heavy footsteps on the tile.

The sound of a confident person in boots.

Steve ducks his head down into that gross sink and splashes more water on his face, both because he can feel his cheeks reddening and because he needs to hide.

 _Don’t move, Steve. If you fuckin’ make any sudden movements your life is over because he_ saw _you staring and that’s super gay and he’ll kick you in the head with his boots_.

Steve--who is currently regretting the life that’s led him to this shameful moment--glances past his own feet to look back at those damn boots standing in front of a urinal.

Shit.

They’re really hot boots.

Now he’s hyperaware of how terrible his hair looks. And it’s a good thing he wore a dark shirt. And his skin is probably so shiny and oily right now because he hasn’t stopped sweating since he stepped out of the house this morning. And he’s still leaning in the disgusting sink—this is probably weird now. He flips his head up and looks behind himself briefly, but the stranger’s gone.

What a fucking relief.

Steve can finally breathe, so he waits another minute—just to be safe—and tries to fix his hair before leaving to see if Jon and Nancy finally decided to abandon him.

———

They didn’t. Sadly.

“Steve, what the hell?” Jonathan yells at him from the ground.

“What?”

“You were gone for like twenty minutes.”

Perfect. Another twenty minutes down before he can go home.

“Really? Ah damn, got kinda lost,” he slides down the wall to sit next to them.

“There are signs all over this place,” Nancy points out.

“Yeah and?”

“Steve.” They say simultaneously. He swears they’re the same person now.

“You could’ve gone somewhere, could’ve done something! I’m a big boy, I would’ve been fine on my own.”

“Steve, no.”

“Nancy, yes.”

“But—”

“You know what?” he stands up onto wobbly legs and thinks that maybe he should sit down for more than two seconds at some point. But right now, he’s done with her worrying and their constant surveillance, “You two. Get up. Right now.”

They stay where they’re at, staring at him confused. Steve rolls his eyes and briefly hates how petulant that is but he’s too eternally irritated to care.

“Get. UP!” He grabs their arms and pulls them both so they’re standing in front of him.

“Steve!” Nancy scolds, “What the hell?”

“You guys,” he stops and points at both of them, “are going on without me.”

“What? No—”

“Stop. You’re going, that’s final. I’ll see you guys in the parking lot later,” he places Nancy’s hand in Jonathan’s, takes them both by the shoulders, spins them around, and walks them forward until Jonathan seems to understand that he’s _serious_ serious.

“Alright, _mom_ ,” Jon says when he starts walking on his own, pulling a reluctant Nancy along. Steve flips him off even though Jon’s back is turned to him.

“Ten o’clock, Steve! Meet us at the car at ten!” She looks upset but Steve _really_ could not care less. She’ll be fine as soon as Jon distracts her with something cute and couple-y. He watches them as they walk away, waving exaggeratedly every time Nancy turns to look at him. It’s not long before the crowd separates them, and Steve is alone. Now he’s free to do what he wants without feeling bad for holding them back.

He can do anything—besides leave the park, of course. He can’t leave.

Unfortunately.

While he’s stuck here though, he might as well actually do something and try to have an ok time. The whole point of coming here was to check out the newest, biggest coaster that everyone’s been talking about. But he’s saving that one for the end, when the lines aren’t so bad.

Steve grabs his sunglasses out of his pocket and pushes them up his nose. He puts his hands on his hips while he tries to figure out his best plan of action. Takes his hands off his hips because Jon just called him “mom” and he needs to stop making it easier for all of them to call him that. Wonders for a second where his lemonade went. Remembers that he doesn’t care. Walks towards the closest ride to distract himself until he can finally go home. Feels like he’s falling.

His vision goes dark.

———

Steve’s back, conscious and surprised, when what feels like a gallon of water is dumped on his face.

 _“Fuck! Shit! What?”_ He jolts awake, opening his eyes just to shut them again when everything looks too bright too suddenly. He tries to sit up but he’s pushed back down.

“Hey now, stay there a second.”

“But—”

“Down boy,” he hears a guy chuckle. Steve does what he says, leans back and groans from deep in his chest.

“The fuck happened?”

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Think you passed out. Nearly hit your head on that bench.”

“Huh.” Steve rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes to try to rid them of the little spots that decided to invade his vision. When he reopens them and his eyes start adjusting to the light, he sees the curly blonde stranger from before.

Just his luck, right?

“Alright sport,” the guy says, clapping him on the shoulder, “how’re we feeling?”

“Like a goddamned wet dog. Can I sit up now?”

“Sure, but go slow, alright?”

Steve nods and lifts his body up as carefully as he can with the stranger helping him, hand just barely brushing Steve’s back. Once he’s up and not lying on the ground like a damsel in distress, he feels slightly better about his situation. But not that much better.

He pulls on his shirt, newly soaked and sticking to his body, and notices the very large cup sitting next to the guy. So not quite a gallon, but he was close enough. On the bright side, his sweat stains have now been completely masked by the water. That’s pretty cool.

“By the way, I’m Billy,” the guy says, removing his hand from Steve’s back to hold it out in front of him.

“Steve,” he hopes his palms aren’t too clammy when he shakes Billy’s hand. “Hey, uh, thanks. Don’t know what happened there.”

“I would say maybe it’s low blood sugar, but if I’m remembering correctly, I saw you buying lemonade earlier, _Steve_. Might’ve also seen you with your head in a sink but then again, I didn’t get a good look at that guy’s face so how could I be sure?” Billy’s grinning smugly at him, tongue darting out between his lips. As if the muscles and hot boots weren’t enough.

“Oh god, yeah, ok. I’m just gonna. . .” Steve tries standing on his own, looking away to try to hide his embarrassed grimace.

“Whoa now, Sink Boy—”

“Nope. I’d rather just get out of here.”

“Ok wait wait,” Billy’s holding him back with some force, sincerely looking him in the eyes now, “I’ll chill with the teasing, just please let me help you out, man.”

Steve takes a second before rolling his eyes and giving in, “Fine. And just so you know, just for the record—I didn’t drink the lemonade, I kinda lost it. . . somewhere?”

“Alright then we should probably get you something to drink—actually, have you eaten today?”

The Billy who’s helping Steve out now is absolutely not the same Billy who was laughing when a girl slapped him earlier. It’s impossible, there’s no way this guy can be both of those people. Steve only shakes his head no in response to the question. Billy just sighs, and for a second Steve wonders if this Billy is Nancy in disguise.

. . .

Definitely not. His abs are too good.

“Ok, you sit on that bench,” Billy instructs while half-lifting Steve to get him on his feet, “and I’ll go get you food because this is seriously unhealthy and I‘m going to fix you before you need to visit the emergency room.”

“Dude, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“You were just passed out on the ground.”

“I— ok yeah maybe you’re right.”

“Oh pretty boy, I’m always right.”

“Fuck off man,” is what Steve says back with a laugh, but he can feel his ears heating up and the hope rising in his chest because this gorgeous man just called _him_ pretty.

“Anything specific that you want or should I just get whatever?” Billy asks after Steve is safely seated.

“Um,” Steve hadn’t actually realized how hungry he is until right now, “fuck. Actually, just like. So much pizza? God, yes.”

Billy smirks, too amused by the answer, “A simple man. I like it. I’ll be back in sec.”

“Wait!” Steve yells, and when Billy stops to look back, Steve throws his wallet at him. Billy shakes his head and tries to toss it back, but Steve stops him, “Nope, I’ve got it. Get yourself something too, my treat. And if you come back with nothing I’m gonna force you to eat some of my pizza, so just keep that in mind. You’re truly a godsend hon, thanks.” Billy’s still shaking his head when he walks off, but he’s holding the wallet and smiling a little bit. Steve counts it as a success.

He watches Billy weave effortlessly through the crowd and imagines that that must’ve been how he disappeared so quick the first time Steve spotted him.

Once he’s far enough away that Steve can’t see Billy anymore, Steve furiously starts trying to fix his goddamn hair. Pushing it back, smoothing it down, licking his fingers so he can maybe fix that one piece that _refuses_ to stay where he needs it.

Nothing is helping. With a resigned sigh, he reaches into his pocket for his sunglasses. _Damn it._ They’re gone. Must’ve fallen off when he hit the ground. Steve would say that his luck has been the worst today, but the very nice looking boy who smiled at him is currently getting him _pizza_ and that’s about as lucky as it gets, so he’s a bit confused about what the universe is trying to do to him today.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hope it’d stick to the better side of things, but he’s not gonna _actually_ say that because karma and shit and then the _opposite_ would happen and Steve doesn’t technically believe in that stuff but he can’t _afford_ to risk _anything_ right now.

So he’s just gonna sit on his little green bench quietly and wait for Billy to come back. If he weren’t so afraid of losing track of the guy again, he’d get up to find a mirror (or, honestly, any mostly reflective surface, if only he had his sunglasses) so that he could fix his hair, but he’s just gonna have to hope for the best.

He’s squinting off into the distance when someone taps his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ!” He jumps and hears Billy’s laughter from behind him.

“Why so jumpy, pretty boy?”

“Fuck man. Didn’t see you coming.” Steve holds a hand over his heart to try to slow its beating.

“So for you, my dainty princess,” Billy teases while holding out arms stacked with food, and Steve reaches over to whack Billy’s leg, “Uh ow? I’m holding your food, you should really be gentler with me.” He winks and Steve feels like he’s gonna pass out again.

“Anyway, as I was saying _your highness_ , we’ve got ‘So Much Pizza’, ” he hands Steve a plate with probably too many slices but Steve is more than prepared to eat it all, “and a nice tall glass of lemonade because you should’ve had the first one but you didn’t so, you know,” he sets the lemonade down next to Steve on the ground and sits next to him on the bench.

“And for _myself_ —because I was forced to—some fucking Coke and a pretzel.”

“God bless. Thanks, man,” Steve mumbles through a mouthful of food. He should probably care more about how he looks right now (you know, considering the fact that he just spent the last ten minutes fixing his hair) but he’s too hungry to worry about it. That, and Billy seems to be more interested in Steve’s health than Steve himself so.

“No problem. Not trying to let you die on me here.”

Steve sighs. He hates being right sometimes.

“Ah, but I forgot to mention that I’m basically kidnapping you.”

Wait— “What?”

“You think I’m gonna help you out and then _not_ make you spend the rest of the day with me?” Billy says, sipping loudly.

“You wanna hang out with _me_?” Steve asks, and he totally doesn’t sound like someone who is very lonely and in need of companionship. The hope in his voice isn’t telling at all.

“Um, yes of course I do, Sleeping Beauty. If I drag you around with me then I don’t need to wonder if the boy with the very nice hair is passed out somewhere else, _and_ neither of us has to hang out in the single rider lines.” He looks at Steve like it’s all pretty obvious, and that’s a look that Steve usually hates, but he doesn’t care right now because apparently, his hair looks nice.

“I uh— yeah sure ok. Sounds good." Steve's mind abruptly supplies him with the image of Billy and the girl who slapped him, and Steve doesn't want to end up a third wheel again so he asks, "But what about that girl?”

Billy quirks a brow, “Girl? Oh, you mean. . .” He looks up to the sky, snaps his fingers, “God, wait a sec, I swear I know her name, hang on.”

“Seriously? You don’t even know her name?”

“No, I literally just said that I do know it, she’s uh. . . Becky! Yes. Her name’s Becky. But yeah she hates me now so she’s not coming back.”

“That sucks man,” Steve tries to hide his smile behind the crust of a fresh slice, “I wonder why she hates you.”

Billy shoulders him, “Oh fuck you. Doesn’t matter, didn’t like her anyway. You and I though, we’re gonna have _much_ more fun.” Billy shoots him a bright smile and Steve knows his cheeks are going red again, so he ducks his head.

“Yeah man. So, what’s on your agenda?”

“I was thinking that we should just stick to my previous plan. Hitting all the less important stuff now, newest coaster close to closing, and then one or two things after if we feel like it. You staying all day?”

“Yup, can’t leave until dark.”

“Being held here against your will?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Billy pulls a pair of sunglasses—not just any sunglasses, but _Steve’s_ sunglasses—down from his hair and slides them over his eyes with an extra innocent smile, “Well if you’re stuck here you might as well have a good time. Get ready Stevie, because we’re gonna have a blast.”

———

And they did.

And maybe Steve just let himself believe for a minute or two here and there that it was kinda like a date. Billy did say that they were following his date plans. But that wasn’t what made it feel like more than just two guys hanging out, it was the small things.

Whenever Steve steered Billy away from Jon and Nancy’s direction with a hand on his back. Whenever Billy intertwined their fingers when they were on an especially good ride. (The first time, Billy let go quick and said defensively, “Wasn’t scared at all. You just have good hands for holding.”) When Steve found a couple with a Polaroid who let him and Billy take a picture together. When Billy asked Steve about his t-shirt, and when Steve pretended like he understood what Billy was talking about when he asked Billy about his Whitesnake crop top. (He was even ballsy enough to comment on his “jealousy of Billy’s abs”, prompting Billy to jokingly pull his shirt up the rest of the way to give Steve an eyeful of his entire torso. Steve did _not_ complain.)

But the sun is beginning to set, and the park is starting to clear out, and it’s nearing the end of a day that Steve thought would feel much longer than it ended up feeling.

“Ok Sleeping Beauty, you ready for the big one?” Billy asks while they stand in line, an excited edge to his voice.

“I don’t know man, pretty sure _I_ should be asking _you_ that,” Steve holds out his hands and rubs his fingers, “Don’t think my fingers will hold up if you keep crushing them every time we drop.”

Steve’s expecting a defensive response, so he’s surprised when Billy grabs his hand and says with a wicked glint in his eye, “Would you prefer nice, gentle hand-holding then, sweetie?”

Steve decides to play along. Nothing to lose, right?

“Darling, I’d love that,” he glances around them and lifts their hands up to kiss Billy’s knuckles while no one’s looking. He thinks he can see a blush forming high up on Billy’s cheeks. Steve’s also a very hopeful man who fainted earlier, so it could be nothing. But it probably means something that Billy doesn’t let go until they make it to the front to get seated and strapped in, and even then, he grabs Steve’s hand again (much tighter this time) as soon as they start moving.

It’s interesting, actually. Billy’s quite obviously terrified on these rides, but he doesn’t yell or curse. He sits there, silently squeezing Steve’s hand while Steve screams at the top of his lungs. Steve asked him, sometime between that purple coaster and the vibrant orange one with the loops, why he even goes on all these rides if they freak him out so much, but his answer was odd and vague.

“Healthy adrenaline, man. Riding rollercoasters is much better than other adrenaline-inducing activities I could be partaking in, let’s just say that.”

And Steve left it there, even though he was confused as hell, because it was only fair that he dropped it. His answer to one of Billy’s questions earlier when he had asked why _Steve_ was alone was simply, “Just wanted it that way. Prefer hanging out with you, though.”

Steve thinks that that’s probably the best part of their entire situation. They don’t know each other at all. Billy doesn’t know about any of the shit that’s gone wrong in Steve’s life, and Steve doesn’t know anything about Billy besides the fact that he’s really fun to hang out with. And maybe they might never see each other again, but Steve’ll be damned if he wastes any of their time together.

After they get off the rollercoaster and finish gushing about how worth the wait it was, Steve says, “We’ve got time for one more ride. Wanna go again?”

Billy contemplates it for a second, holds his chin in his hand and then turns to Steve, “I was actually thinking Ferris Wheel.”

“Seriously?” Steve laughs, deepens his voice a bit to ask, “You wanna make out at the top, baby?”

“Only if you want to, pretty boy.”

And it clicks.

 _Somehow_ he didn’t realize it before, but there’s just enough uncertainty in Billy’s voice to key Steve into the fact that Billy is _actually_ flirting with him. All day, he’s believed Billy’s been joking because Steve is kinda transparent as fuck when he likes someone, and he usually goes for people who tell it like it is when it comes to this stuff. But with the way Billy’s fidgeting and looking at the ground now— he’s got it just as bad for Steve as Steve has it for him.

“What are we waiting for then?” He says hurriedly, too excited now that he knows he’s not alone in his feelings, “Like my dad says, ‘time is money.’ C’mon.” He doesn’t hesitate now to catch hold of Billy’s hand and pull him over towards the Ferris Wheel, all lit up like a beacon for them.

Now that he knows that Billy’s hot boots aren’t gotta be kicking him in the face for his gay shit anytime soon, he’s got his prizewinning Harrington confidence back.

“After you,” he says, pointing for Billy to get into the bright red seat first. Once they’re both situated and the mechanisms start turning and they’re far enough away from any prying eyes, Steve turns as much as he can to face Billy head on.

“So.”

“So?”

“You’re quiet all of a sudden.”

“No I’m not,” Billy looks anxious and he keeps staring over the bar at the ground. Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like how Billy’s scared, so he thinks _fuck it_ and decides that at the very least, if this doesn’t go according to plan, he’ll get to take home a cool story about how he got beat the hell up on a Ferris Wheel.

Reaching out slowly, Steve touches Billy’s chin and tilts his head so that he’s not looking at the ground.

“Look at me, don’t look down there.”

“We’re really high up,” Billy’s wringing his hands a bit, he can’t seem to sit still, but he keeps his eyes on Steve’s.

“It’ll just keep getting higher before it gets lower, so,” Steve takes a deep breath, “I could distract you? If you want?”

Billy’s eyes go wide. Steve’s heart is in his throat, palms sweating, and it only gets worse (better?) when Billy gives him the tiniest nod.

Steve didn’t actually anticipate getting this far, he assumed gay panic would take over before he got to kiss Billy, but holy shit it’s actually happening.

And right at the top, too.

He leans in close and presses his lips lightly against Billy’s. Steve’s goal was a cute, chaste kiss to take Billy’s mind off where they’re at but _apparently_ Billy has other ideas because as soon as Steve starts to pull away, hands are flying up to hold his face so Billy can deepen the kiss.

Steve is _so_ ok with it though.

He leans into it, making the seat swing too much—Billy’s iron grip on Steve’s hair lets him know that—so he wraps his arms around Billy completely to hold them both still. They’re barely moving even though they’re kissing with a fervor that warrants much more movement.

But it’s kinda cute, the way that Steve has essentially got Billy in a giant bear hug and Billy’s hands are curled up in Steve’s hair. Maybe the fact that their tongues are in each other’s mouths isn’t quite so cute, but Steve’s been waiting for this all fucking day. So whatever it is, cute or not, Steve thinks it’s perfect.

Billy pulls back to breathe but he keeps his forehead up against Steve’s, “Fuck, Sleeping Beauty. You really know how to kiss.”

“Are you sure I didn’t die when I passed out earlier? Because your mouth is heaven.”

Billy snorts, titling back as far as he can without leaving Steve’s arms to laugh at the dumb line.

“Wow Stevie, you say that to all the girls or am I just special?”

And Steve can’t help himself when he responds, “You’re just special,” with a kiss to Billy’s cheek. “Speaking of,” he continues, peppering Billy’s face with more kisses just because he can, “You think I could get your number?”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @pretty-bois if you want!


End file.
